


i don't want to take the heat you rise in me (so secretly)

by thegoldenrin



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, It's during a virtual meeting and Mac is hiding underneath the desk, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Russ calls Mac a slut once or twice, Russ is terrified of Matty, Suit Kink, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, ftm!Mac, semi-public oral sex, sometime in s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoldenrin/pseuds/thegoldenrin
Summary: “Well”, he drawls languidly, taking great pleasure in the way it has Russ’ fingers clenching around his hipbone, “I would never dream of stealing you away from your important work, of course, but I was thinking…”He leans down slowly, until the only thing separating their lips are scant millimeters of air, their combined breaths mingling in heated puffs in between. “…that maybe I could offer some… excitement.”
Relationships: Angus MacGyver/Russ Taylor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	i don't want to take the heat you rise in me (so secretly)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintsurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/gifts).



> this is my first attempt at mactaylor because I love russ and his suits and chaotic!Mac. again, this fits into the head canon that Mac is ftm, and I hope I could do that justice. the credit for that goes to kel, as well as the blame for this crackship. dndndndn jk ily.  
> if u comment I will love u forever and give u my firstborn. thanks
> 
> find me on tumblr @azurelacrima

_Meeting in 10’ – sorry darling, dinner will have to wait.  
  
_ Sighing in deep consternation, Angus MacGyver lets his head thump against his henley-covered left forearm braced on Bozer’s office table in the Phoenix labs. The lights in the corridors have been turned off for at least an hour now, and apart from one unfortunate intern puttering about muttering nervously to herself about some last-minute novel field equipment for one of their tac teams, Mac is fairly certain he’s one of the last people still left in the building. Bozer and Riley left a few hours ago, throwing questioning glances in his direction without verbalizing what everyone was evidently thinking, and he hasn’t actually really spoken to Desi outside of field situations since… well, since. And his current predicament most likely won’t do anything to help untangle that can of worms.   
  
Sighing deeply, Mac presses at his phone’s home screen for the umpteenth time that hour alone, watching it light up with the bright colors of his and Jack’s last trip to Vegas. The fancy suit part, obviously, not the basement.   
  
His screen reads _21:32_. Mac sighs again.   
  
This is the fourth time in the last ten days they’ve had to cancel on their evening plans – and only one of those was because Mac almost got shot an ocean away, which to be fair is a pretty good track record except for the fact that it _sucks_ , and he doesn’t even get to blow anything up in exchange. He _could_ , technically, but somehow he doesn’t think Matty will take ‘ _sorry, I was sexually frustrated_ ’ as an excuse for scorch marks on her walls all that well.   
  
_Who knew that owning the Phoenix would be so much busywork?_ Mac thinks cynically, eyes flitting around Bozer’s workspace for any spare paperclips he hasn’t already cannibalized into various tiny sculptures scattered over his desk yet. His fingers bump against something that feels distinctly wiry and metal, immediately beginning to bend it into shape, more on instinct than any conscious thought. _If only I could- oh. Wait. I_ could.  
  
With a start, he shoots up into a sitting position, blinking down at the tiny half-shaped paperclip in his hands as a grin slowly spreads across his face. Yes, he certainly could – if he hurries, that is.   
  
With a clatter, he lets the paperclip drop back down onto Bozer’s desk, grabs his phone and sprints out of the lab, head spinning with increasingly outlandish ideas all the way through the Phoenix’ corridors.   
  
_Oh, this’ll be fun._

* * *

Only a few floors away from his original location, Mac slithers to a stop in front of a non-descript white office door. He takes a moment to drag his left, slightly trembling hand through the messiness of his hair, before admitting it’s a lost cause and knocking instead, only barely suppressing the urge to bounce on his heels in excitement. His face feels flushed with heat, and a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth when that dulcet voice shouts out a slightly dimmed “Come in!”, from behind the door. Mac takes his cue and pushes it open, letting the smile bloom across his face at the noise of pleasant surprise the office’s occupant makes when the blond steps through.   
  
“Angus!”, Russ exclaims, leaning back in his wheeled chair and well-tailored, cream-colored suit vest. “To what do I owe this most wonderful surprise?”  
  
Mac closes the door behind him with a quiet _click_ , smiling bashfully at his boyfriend – _boyfriend!_ –, who looks for all the world like he means every word of what he’s just said, like spending time with Mac really is an enjoyable and fulfilling pastime. People like Russell Taylor have the means to do literally anything else in the world that catches their fancy, and still the man looks at Mac like he’s the most riveting thing he’s ever seen.   
  
“Just thought you could use the company”, Mac says softly, making his way through Russ’ spacious office with a quick glance at the clock ticking away quietly in the corner above the liquor cabinet. 21:38, he’ll have to hurry.   
  
Bending down to press an innocent peck against the other man’s bearded jaw, Mac leans his weight against the edge of his surprisingly messy desk, already fighting at the warm feeling blooming in his gut just from inhaling the distinct smell of the high-end cologne Russ likes to wear.  
  
A light touch of that broad hand to his jean-covered hip has Mac suppressing a shiver, just like the deep rumble of Russ’ voice when he smiles up at him and speaks. “Well, you know I’m always delighted to have you around me, but I’m afraid I won’t be much in the way of pleasant company for you, dear, seeing as I’m about to start a rather tedious meeting.”   
  
His grimace is apologetic, but today it only serves to widen Mac’s grin.   
  
“Well”, he drawls languidly, taking great pleasure in the way it has Russ’ fingers clenching around his hipbone, “I would never dream of stealing you away from your important work, of course, but I was thinking…”  
  
He leans down slowly, until the only thing separating their lips are scant millimeters of air, their combined breaths mingling in heated puffs in between. “…that maybe I could offer some… _excitement_.”  
  
Russ chuckles throatily, sliding a firm heated palm up along Mac’s neck to the back of his head, putting gentle pressure on it until he can press a close-lipped kiss to his mouth that’s anything but chaste. “Is that so?”, he murmurs out against Mac’s skin when they separate again. “It’s about to start any moment now, and I’ll be talking to some of the most seasoned leading personnel in American covert operations, including Matilda. Don’t misunderstand me, I’ve missed you like a physical ache these past few days, but… I’m not sure even you could pull this off, darling.”  
  
In one swift move, Mac draws back and falls to his knees, fingertips hooking underneath the seam of Russ’ dress pants.   
  
“Well”, he purrs, letting his tongue dart out to swipe across his bottom lip teasingly, grinning at the way his boyfriend’s pupils blow wide in answering arousal at the gesture. “That sounds like a you-problem, considering my plan doesn’t include my presence on the screen in any way, shape or form. That is… if you want to.”  
  
For several heartbeats, they stay like that, brown eyes boring into blue ones from above, the air between them charged with electricity so thick Mac can almost taste the metallic static on his tongue. It’s a risky move, he knows, but by god he hasn’t felt this alive in months, not since the last time he faced impossible odds in the field and somehow came out on the other side of it alive, not since the heated glances between them on UCLA’s campus a few months ago, not since Russ first pressed a tender kiss to his lips in the war room before frosting over its glass windows and pressing Mac down into the couch-cushions.   
  
The tell-tale sound of a video-call coming through breaks the suspense between them, and Russ lets his beautiful brown eyes flutter closed on a low groan for one, tense second before he makes his decision.   
  
“Get under that desk now, you little devil”, he breathes out huskily, British lilt more pronounced than usual with his arousal. Russ’ fingers curl around Mac’s nape briefly before he removes them to all but tear his belt open. “And for god’s sake, don’t make any noise – I like my job and reputation intact, you know.”   
  
Mac scoots back, tamping down on the exhilarated little giggles that want to escape the back of his throat, instead content to pop the button on the darker cream-colored slacks and draw down its zipper, eyes zeroing in on the steadily growing bulge in Russ’ dark boxers and the very obvious damp spot. The older man hits accept on the conference call, announcing a greeting along with his name in a voice that’ll hopefully sound completely normal to all others, but Mac can tell is just this side of breathy and husky. Though at this point, he’s only half-listening to anything going on around him, choosing instead to press his open mouth against Russ’ clothed cock in a light kiss.  
  
Gently, Mac slips his fingers into the front of his boyfriend’s boxers, drawing out the still mostly soft if heated swell of his shaft, curling his dry palms around its length. Tongue already peeking out between his slightly parted lips, Mac hesitates – and after a moment of deliberation, he reaches back into the confines of Russ’ underwear to grasp softly at his balls, dragging them out through the slit to massage lightly at them.  
  
Pumping Russ’ steadily hardening length in his left hand slowly, Mac draws back the foreskin covering the head of his cock, swiping the tip of his tongue across the exposed slit teasingly.   
  
It tastes like salty perfection, heady and forbidden, and has Mac’s eyes fluttering along with his stomach. He keeps mouthing at the tip as he slowly jerks Russ’ length with his left hand, rolling his heavy balls between the pads of his fingertips. The heated flesh hardens almost in record time, filling out underneath Mac’s hands as he suckles on the exposed mushroom head, tongue tracing along the sensitive ridge.  
  
Russ’ knees shift ever so slightly, and with a secretive little smile, Mac drags the flat of his tongue across the head, spears its tip into his leaking slit, just to feel the way the muscles of his boyfriend’s thighs clench next to his head.  
  
 _And you don’t even have to say anything yet_ , he thinks, somewhat sadistically, thumbing along the sensitive vein along the underside.   
  
Closing his mouth over the tip, Mac sinks down onto the hard length, stops himself halfway to pull off again slowly, and allows just the slightest drag of teeth against the sensitive flesh. The reaction is almost instantaneous; a stutter in Russ’ hips, trying desperately to push back into Mac’s mouth in the cramped space. The silent desperation of it is almost enough to actually have Mac moaning, only barely catching the sound in his throat as he huffs out a hot puff of air, feels the way it has Russ’ cock twitching in his grip.   
  
And then suddenly, the older man is moving, chair scraping back minimally. Mac feels his eyes go wide, actually wonders for a second that drags out for a year if Russ intends to drag him out beneath his desk and just fuck him in front of the people still chattering away from his monitor – but no, he merely wedges a shoe-clad foot in between Mac’s legs.  
  
The length of his shin is pressed tightly against the blond’s upper body, and Mac can _feel_ the rough material of his laces wedged against his cock, even through his jeans. Through the spinning in his head, the dampness steadily spreading in his underwear, Mac doesn’t quite realize what he’s supposed to do until the foot presses insistently into his crotch, sending a hot stab of want up through his spine that fizzes out in a burst of electricity at the bottom of his skull, and _oh-_  
  
That’s what Russ wants.   
  
As swiftly as the cramped space will allow, Mac’s hands fumble with his belt, tearing it open to allow his pants and underwear to be pushed down along his trembling thighs. God, he feels like the dirtiest kind of slut, face pressed up against his boyfriend’s erection as he struggles to get his pants all the way down around his knees, exposing himself to the cool office air.   
  
And then finally he’s settling back on his heels, down onto the cool, brown leather of Russ’ dress shoe, pressing against the heat of Mac so _deliciously._  
  
In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea, but in that very moment Mac is reduced to the physical sensations wreaking havoc on his heated skin and sinks down onto Russ’ cock in its entirety with a low moan. It slips into his throat with an ease that speaks of practice, and even though they’ve known each other only little more than a few months, Mac knows right then that he never wants to do anything else again; he will never want anyone else, no one but this intoxicating, heady man, with his long, thick shaft that sinks into his throat like that’s where it’s meant to be, that indulges these juvenile fantasies of Mac’s so readily.   
  
Belatedly, he realizes that he can hear Russ’ voice stuttering above him, because Mac somehow managed to choose the exact moment where his partner had to pitch into the meeting verbally to deepthroat him without warning. _Oh, shit._  
  
 _“Taylor, everything alright on your end?”_  
  
Mac stills, thoughts come to a screeching halt. His mouth is spit-slick and open around the base of Russ’ cock as he breathes harshly through his nose against the fabric of his boxers, eyes torn wide open with adrenaline. _Is this it?_  
  
With a quiet little cough, Russ clears his throat, cock twitching and leaking salty precome into Mac’s mouth. “I – yes, no worries, just a little something I may have caught in Cambodia two weeks ago. Light, but persistent.”  
  
Mac sags in relief, desperately holding in his nervous chuckling around Russ’ erection. It’s technically true, they _did_ have a mission in Cambodia, which their boss _did_ tag along to, and except for Matty and Bozer had them all fighting off a fever for several days. (Which is how Mac discovered the wonderful, high-end brand of fluffy pajamas Russ swears on. He hasn’t taken them off at home ever since.)  
  
A tinny, feminine voice makes a noise of sympathy, and Mac wonders through the fog in his mind whether he’d recognize her under different circumstances.   
  
_“How troublesome. Well, I hope you get better soon. As for the active weapon’s depot in…”_  
  
Mac’s already zoning out again, teasingly rubbing the flat of his tongue pinned to the bottom of his mouth against the underside of Russ’ dick as much as he can, slowly beginning to bob his head. He doesn’t pull off enough for it to ever really slip out of his throat, lodged deep inside the back of the ring of muscles. It’s slow and wet, so gentle Mac isn’t even choking on it. And isn’t that a thought, Russ putting him on his knees for everyone to see, slapping the wet, leaking head of his cock against his slack bottom lip, trailing the pad of his gun-calloused thumb across the wet trail of his own precome before pulling Mac down on his cock so deep it cuts off all his air…  
  
And suddenly the warmed leather tip of his shoe is moving against Mac, pushing into him ever so slightly as he reflexively tries to clench down on a more sizeable intrusion that isn’t _there_. The only thing that keeps him from jerking in surprise is the dazed quality of his thoughts, the way his entire body feels like it’s floating somewhere far away except for where their skin is touching. Eyes fluttering, Mac pulls off with a quiet, wet _pop_ , praying that the heavy oak desk will be enough to cover up any sounds. Gently, the fingers of his left hand lift Russ’ cock out of the way, tongue swiping across his lips all messy and wet with their combined fluids that managed to escape the corners of his mouth as he comes face-to-face with Russ’ balls.   
  
Well, all’s fair in love and… not war, if you consider the Geneva convention, and not really love either, but if Russ wants to play it dirty with that damn shoe still rubbing tiny shocks of brain-melting friction into Mac’s groin, then so can he.  
  
With a devilish little grin, Mac leans in to lick a fat stripe across the sensitive skin, swirling the tip of his tongue around his sac before sucking it into his mouth. Russ is so beautifully sensitive here, and the reaction is almost instantaneous; knees pressing tightly against Mac’s shoulders, Russ’ cock twitches in his hand, and for good measure he makes sure to drag just the slightest edge of a close-trimmed fingernail through his weeping slit as he rolls the heavy swell of his balls in his mouth. His skin presses hot and heavy against Mac’s tongue, and just the slightest tease of wiry cock-hair nestled at his base peeking out underneath the black boxers has the blond’s eyes fluttering.   
  
He can feel the tell-tale coil of heat in his gut, and Russ is rock-fucking-hard in his hand, not far off from the same cliff as Mac is barreling toward; with a quiet gasp, he wonders distantly if the older man could come like this, just from the feeling of Mac suckling at his balls.   
  
It’s a heady thought, one that has his stomach twisting up into knots and hips jerking against the now wettened leather of Russ’ shoe, vividly picturing how it would feel to make Russ lose it like this, spill himself over Mac’s face underneath his desk in complete secret as he’s attending a virtual meeting. He can see it play out, how he’d touch him through it, slip his boyfriend’s slowly softening cock back into his mouth after, warm it until the meeting is done and crawl out beneath the desk after, watch Russ’ breath catch at the sight of his come all over Mac’s face. But the thought of drawing it out, teasing him the whole way through and staving off his orgasm every time he gets close, make him fuck Mac over his desk hard and fast after, desperate and absolutely _wild...._

No, he doesn’t want this to end, wants to keep Russ on that edge as long as possible. _Huh. As long as-_  
  
Brought up short, Mac’s mouth and hands still their ministrations as he blinks. _How long_ is _this meeting, actually?_  
  
It’s such a hysterical thought, completely out of left field in how stupidly elemental it is. Of _course_ Mac would forget about that, in his characteristic hyper-focus that drowns out everything else; he’d zeroed in on Russ’ cock and forgot the rest of the world, and if it wasn’t so dumb it might even be kind of hot.  
  
He lets the wet weight of his boyfriend’s balls slide out of his mouth carefully, leaning back in to close his lips over his arousal once again as his hand releases the steel length, resting on his clothed thigh instead. The material of the cream-colored dress pants is pulled taut over the strained muscles in Russell’s thighs, deliciously thick and powerful and _not at all conductive to conscious thought._  
  
With two fingers, Mac starts tapping out a firm rhythm on the smooth expanse of Russ’ leg, hoping fervently that he won’t be too distracted by the juxtaposition of having to appear focused on his meeting and the hot suction of Mac’s mouth around his cock to catch the Morse code for what it is. But he only has to tap out his curt message of _How long_ three times before a warm hand slides downwards to cover his own, stilling his fingers in their motions.  
  
Mac smiles around his mouthful at the tight squeeze of calloused fingers around his own before they slide down even further to-  
  
 _Oh, you fucker._  
  
Russ’ hand fits so beautifully against Mac’s jaw, thumb caressing the spit-slick line of his lower lip as his pinky drags against his throat in a silent promise, paired with the slight rock of a leather-clad foot against his throbbing cock. Mac only barely tamps down on the whine that wants to escape his throat, thinks a little desperately that it would only be fair because goddammit Russ _knows full well_ how this gets him going.  
  
And then his index and middle finger hover against Mac’s cheek, and he starts tapping back, right against the spot where his cock is bulging out ever so slightly.  
  
It takes five tries for Mac to decode his message, but in his defense, he’s crouched underneath a cramped desk with his boyfriend’s cock shoved down his throat. (Plus, he’s fairly certain he feels Russ mess it up on his first two tries and start over.)  
  
 _Ten minutes._  
  
Russ slides his hand across Mac’s jaw in one last, firm caress that has him clenching down on nothing again, and then Mac gets to work, determined to drive him right to the brink of insanity in the span of those ten minutes, deepthroating his cock like he’s never deep-throated cock before. He squeezes the heavy swell of Russ’ balls in his palms, feels how tightly they’ve drawn up, dragging his teeth against the steel length in his mouth-   
  
“Thank you all for your participation, I will follow up tomorrow with the requested documents”, Russ’ voice cuts through his awareness, British tang heavily pronounced in the tightness of his voice. He sounds pent-up, an inch or one clever twist of Mac’s tongue away from exploding, and he hits the exit-key on the computer’s keyboard with such force Mac can hear it all the way underneath the desk, already squirming in excitement.   
  
His mouth is suddenly empty as the desk chair rolls back, and when he ducks his head out underneath he finds himself being dragged back between suit-covered thighs by a heavily panting Russ.   
  
“ _You_ ”, he groans out, fitting both hands around the cut of Mac’s jaw, tracing the wet gash of his mouth hovering over his erection jutting out in the air between them. His pupils are blown so wide they cover his dark brown irises almost entirely, gaze heavy and hot on Mac’s face as he pulls his head back over his cock and tilts it back to look straight up at his lover.   
  
“You little _tease_ , I swear to god, Angus – you had me so close to causing an incident with that _fucking mouth of yours-_ “   
  
His voice is little more than a dark rasp, hips grinding up to push the head of his cock into the clutch of Mac’s throat, who suddenly finds himself yearning for the sensation of Russ’ leather shoe as he lets the man use his mouth however he sees fit.   
  
“God, you little _cockslut_ , just sat underneath my desk for forty minutes because you love sucking me off that much, you’re a fucking _gift_ , Angus”, Russ hisses lowly, lips pulling into a satisfied little smirk when Mac mewls around him. Both of his thumbs stroke lovingly across his flaming cheeks, brushing away the tears smeared across the arch of his bones Mac didn’t realize he’d spilled until now. “I’m gonna-“  
  
 _Thump-thump._  
  
The knock at the office door takes them both by surprise, and when Russ jumps with a quiet yelp it pushes his cock against the back of Mac’s throat enough to make him gag, the sound of shock he makes muffled around the intrusion in his throat. _What the ever-loving-_  
  
“Scoot back!”, Russ hisses at him frantically, feet already pushing against Mac’s knees on the floor as he’s brushing away the light coat of perspiration on his forehead. Mac struggles to follow suit as he scrambles back underneath the desk, heart pounding away wildly in his chest in a way that has nothing to do with the hard cock still buried in his mouth, which – _fuck, too late!_  
  
“Who is it?”, Russ calls out above him, voice higher pitched than usual. Mac hopes to _fuck_ that all the many professional spies in this building magically won’t take notice, door already creaking open.  
  
“Just me, Taylor”, Matty’s voice rings through the room, and Mac’s heart stops along with his breath. He doesn’t dare move a single inch, eyes wide and staring straight at the hem of Russ’ black boxers.   
  
Russ, who coughs in what he probably intends to be welcoming surprise. “Matilda, how- pleasant, very nice to see you. What can I do for you?”  
  
Admittedly, he’s keeping an impressive pretense of casual, considering the fact that he’s currently _got his hard cock buried in his employee’s mouth crouched underneath his desk.  
_  
Mac’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry at the sheer audacity of it all. Matty snorts.   
  
“Nothing, I’m about to close up shop – just dropping by to tell MacGyver that the desks in R&D are much more comfortable for what he’s currently doing”, she answers, voice deadpan except for the undertone of sadistic glee that has Russ choking on his own spit from the sounds of it.   
  
Unfortunately, Mac’s instinctive reaction is to _swallow around his cock in surprise.  
_  
“I- _aaugh-_! I’m s-sure I don’t know what you’re talking about”, his boyfriend stammers, valiantly seeking to keep the nondescript façade of casualness that sounds more like a desperate shriek.  
  
“I’m sure you don’t. But, for the record, Taylor”, Matty says, and Mac can physically _feel_ her signature smirk of doom through the several inches of solid wood hiding him from sight, “I’ve been in the game for several decades, you’ll have to up your ante if you want to get away with that like you did in front of those other clowns. I’ll see you both tomorrow in the war room.”  
  
The door falls closed again, amidst various noises of protest and distress from Russ. Then he groans lowly, and the room falls silent.   
  
Mac makes it all of two seconds before starts breaking out into silent laughter, which turn into desperate, husky giggles as Russ slides his chair back again with a grunt, head buried in his hands in absolute desperation. Within an instant, Mac is sprawled across the floor next to his feet, pants still down around his knees and tears streaming across his cheeks while he curls up into a ball against the screeching laughter that wracks his body.   
  
God, what on _earth_ even just happened – he’s _mortified_ , completely and utterly distraught, but this is the _funniest fucking thing he’s heard this or even last year._  
  
“Oh my god, for the love of everything that is holy, please shut up”, Russ moans into his palms, fingers curled into the long strands of his dark hair. It only serves to make Mac laugh even harder, fingers scrabbling against the fabric of his white henley for purchase. Russ lifts his beet-red face from the confines of his hands to stare down at Mac with beseeching brown eyes, but the corners of his mouth are already twitching, and after another few seconds he’s joining Mac in his laughter.   
  
It takes whole minutes for them to calm down again, Mac chuckling weakly from his position on the floor as he stares up at his boyfriend who’s wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, cock still hard and leaking.   
  
“Do you-“, Mac groans, pulling himself up by Russ’ knees to lean against the man heavily, mouth twitching in a painful grin as he nods at the elephant in the room. “D’you still want me to suck you off?” His voice is a little breathless, and it takes everything in him not to break out into giggles like a fifth-grader at the words _suck you off._   
  
Russ snorts, wincing at the pull in his abdominals, and shakes his head with a faint smile, brown eyes twinkling playfully at Mac. His suit is rumpled, in an uncharacteristic show of dishevelment, but Mac finds he doesn’t mind the sight as a warm pang of fondness pulls against his chest.   
  
“Ah, no, I think that ship has sailed”, he rumbles gently, already bending down out of his seat to pull Mac’s prone body into his arms with warm hands. With a broad sweep across the table, he’s cleared a large enough space to place Mac down on, already working his boots off his feet when the blond regains his breath.   
  
“Just – like this, hmm?”, he murmurs, pressing a light peck to the inside of Mac’s right knee as he pulls his pants and underwear off in one quick go, Mac smiling at him in answering enthusiasm as he does the same for Russ’ own, watching them pool around his ankles on the floor. Bracing his left hand on the table next to Mac’s hip, the older man steps up between his spread legs, gripping the base of his cock tightly as he presses the wet tip of it against Mac’s own swollen one, circling into it.   
  
Mac gasps, dropping his head back on a loud moan, naked toes curling above the floor. His hands clutch at the back of Russ’ neck, left palm curling into the ends of his dark hair. His boyfriend drags the leaking tip of his cock down until it sits against his hole, exerting only the lightest of pressures.   
  
Mac’s head snaps back up, but before he can say anything, he finds his mouth caught in a passionate, all-encompassing kiss, tongue sliding against Russ’ who moans lowly at his own taste entwined with Mac’s. The scratch of his beard against Mac’s own bare face sends his head spinning, and when their lips disconnect again a thin trail of spit hangs between them, until Russ presses another brief, but hard kiss against the cleft of Mac’s chin.   
  
“Do you-“, Mac pants lowly, hips arching upwards into the tease of his boyfriend’s cock at his hole, fire lancing up the liquid line of his spine.  
  
“Yeah, yeah – just-“, leaning over to the right side of his desk, Russ tears open the top drawer, rummaging around for only a short moment before he unearths a full bottle of lube with a triumphant grin.   
  
Mac gapes, snorting in disbelief. “Do you – you keep lube in your _office_?”, he asks incredulously, shifting his hips forward in anticipation as his boyfriend tears off the cap and squirts a generous dollop into Mac’s outstretched hand.   
  
He chuckles, dark eyes dragging over Mac’s body in a way that makes him feel positively _indecent_.   
  
“Of course I do, who do you think I- _o-ohh!_ Fuck, darling-“, he trails off in another moan as Mac spreads the lube over his length slowly, pushing the flushed hardness through the tight ring of his fingers with a dirty grin.   
  
“You’re worse than I am – keeping lube in your office of all places”, he chuckles, letting go of his boyfriend’s erection to wipe his hand on his henley, leaning his weight back in anticipation as he spreads his legs just a little more, giving Russ all the access he could ever wish for. “And now _please_ fuck my brain out of my head, if you’d be so kind?”  
  
Russ rolls his dark brown eyes jokingly, leaning forward to press their lips together as he pushes into Mac slowly, gently.   
  
“So – _oh_ – so demanding”, he gasps out wetly against his mouth, swallowing Mac’s whine with another kiss, hips pressed flush against Mac’s groin where he rests for a second. “But I can’t say no to you darling, not with those blue eyes of yours-“  
  
And then he’s pulling back to fuck back forward into Mac, slow but hard enough to drive him back on the cold wood if not for the firm grip on his thigh that hits him like a gut-punch of pure heat, breathing out desperate cries into Russ’ mouth and beard the older man returns with the same passion.   
  
They’re already on edge, both of them; the salty taste that lingers in Mac’s mouth drives his partner wild, and it only takes minutes for him to start pounding into the blond properly. The drag of his beard across Mac’s neck is delicious, plain and simple, sending a jumble of electric shocks all over his body, rivaled only by the overwhelming sensation between his legs.   
  
And then he drops Mac’s right thigh to set his thumb over the jut of his cock, leaning back to stare down at him with his pupils blown so wide it makes his eyes look almost black. Russ pants wetly against his face, hand flying over Mac’s cock, still pounding into him-  
  
“Come for me, Angus”, he rasps out, twisting his hips on a hard thrust inwards _just right_ , still rubbing over Mac’s cock like he wants to _drag_ his orgasm out of him. “Come for me, sweetheart, come on my cock like the slut you are-“  
  
And Mac _does_ , with a loud, garbled scream he hides in the side of Russ’ neck, vision whiting out as he clenches down on his boyfriend’s cock, hands fisting in the expensive material of his suit. Russ’ moan is a high-pitched, almost painful-sounding thing, and then Mac feels the heat of his release blooming inside him, as he thrusts into his body once, twice more, before he stills against him, breathing hard and cock still twitching inside him with the aftershocks of orgasm.   
  
“That- aah – that was… amazing”, Mac gasps out breathlessly, dropping his forehead against Russ’ suit-and-sweat-covered collarbone, leaning into the light kiss the older man presses to his ear just to feel his beard drag against it.   
  
A low, rumbling laugh shakes his frame against Mac, and then his cock is slipping out of his body again. Mac sighs, pushing down on the distinct feeling of _loss_ , consoling himself with the thought that they have the whole night ahead of them still plus the car ride.   
  
“I – I agree wholeheartedly”, Russ chuckles, smoothing slightly damp, heated palms over the part of Mac’s ass not pressed to the table, who shivers through a stab of want zipping through his oversensitive cock at the touch.   
  
“God, Angus, you’re something else. That might be the most depraved thing I’ve ever done.” The tone of his voice sounds reverent when he says it, but still the words have Mac’s head snapping up, staring into kind brown eyes with worry brewing in his stomach. What if-   
  
He clears his throat a little awkwardly, voice wobbling when he speaks. “I – yeah, about that, look… I’m sorry I got you into that situation. I shouldn’t have - it was a lot to ask, too much, and-“  
  
Russ frowns, before realization blooms across his face, and then he’s leaning forward to interrupt Mac’s rambling with a light press of lips against his own, letting the kiss linger until the blond melts into it with a sigh, stomach fluttering. He breaks it slowly, only reluctantly, and then Russ presses their foreheads together to whisper in a low, soothing voice, hands coming up to curl around Mac’s jaw.   
  
“Angus, listen to me – there’s nothing to apologize for here. I wanted it, and it was incredibly sexy, believe me. If I’d said no, you would’ve stopped immediately. But I didn’t, and that’s because I didn’t want to say no. I wanted to say yes. I wanted you.” His voice is sincere, just like his dark, gentle eyes, and after a moment of searching his face for any proof to the contrary, Mac feels his lips bloom into a vulnerable little smile. _He actually means that. Even though we got caught by Matty._  
  
“Okay”, he whispers, pressing another butterfly kiss to heated lips, and then another, just because he can. Then a thought occurs to him, and he breaks out into giggles.   
  
“What is it?”, Russ inquires, still smiling dopily, still standing half-naked between Mac’s legs in his office.   
  
Mac leans back slightly to look up at him with a shit-eating grin, voice a low drawl he knows always gets to Russ. “I was just thinking – what Matty said about the R&D desks… are you gonna go to your knees for me next?”  
  
Russ blinks at him for a moment before he snorts, right hand squeezing at Mac’s jaw lovingly. “Oh, sweetheart – these suits aren’t made for that kind of delinquency”, he croons, in that slightly arrogant lilt only enhanced by his accent. Mac pretends to think it over, lets his eyes drag across the rumpled appearance of his boyfriend’s suit.   
  
“I might have to start wearing some of those too, in that case-“, he breaks off with a squeak, immediately pulled into a hard, open-mouthed kiss by Russ, who groans into his mouth as if he hadn’t just given both of them a couple of earth-shattering orgasms, as if his release wasn’t still dripping from Mac.   
  
“Goddamn, Angus”, he gasps when they disconnect again, eyes heavy with lust and an emotion Mac can’t name. “If you keep talking like that, we’ll never make it out of here. And for the record, I’m getting you a proper suit for your birthday. A personal fit from my own tailor. Wearing it will be better than sex, I guarantee you that much.”  
  
And that has Mac laughing again, a bright, untroubled sound, like he hasn’t heard come from his mouth in a long time. 

* * *

The next day, he wakes up with his face pressed in between strong shoulder blades, still rising and falling leisurely with sleep. He presses a gentle kiss to Russ’ spine before rolling over to check the time on his phone, blinking the fog out of his eyes as he opens a message from Bozer.   
  
_You know, you could just tell me that you’re fucking our boss in person, instead of leaving dick-shaped paperclips all over my desk. Congratulations, by the way._  
  
Mac stares for several seconds in disbelief. That – oh. Right. That’s why he doesn’t usually fiddle with paperclips when he’s horny. 


End file.
